


From me to you, happy birthday (son)

by osmalic



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-01-10
Updated: 2009-01-10
Packaged: 2017-10-19 23:00:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 956
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/206149
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/osmalic/pseuds/osmalic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Wherein Severus gets a cauldron for his birthday and doesn't appreciate it. He passes on this favour many years later and gets the same reaction.</p>
            </blockquote>





	From me to you, happy birthday (son)

**Author's Note:**

> For Snape's birthday, I chose cauldron for . Strictly speaking, it's not entirely about Severus' birthday, though. I fail muchly.

When Severus turns eleven, his mother gives him a cauldron. It is made of bronze, with one side already dented and with a bronze ring attached to its neck, presumably where one would put a ladle. The outside is strangely dented with the bottom already blackened and rough. But the inside is strangely smooth and still shining perfectly, save for the small dent. Like the insides are scrubbed and cared for.

"It's been in my family for years," she explains, running her thin fingers through his hair. "You can say it's a family heirloom. It's one of the few things I took with me when I left home." Her rough fingers trace the lip, and in the meagre light of the attic, her face looks strangely younger, happier. "You'll find this is one of the most important things I can ever give you."

Back then, Severus had thanked her and didn't explain his distress over getting something superbly boring while the other kids were getting clothes and toys for their birthdays. Back then, he didn't understand why his mother would choose _this_ ugly thing to bring with her when she left home. He didn't understand why she never bothered to explain why she could never go back.

Months later, Potter and Black would catch sight of the cauldron and sneer, loudly pointing out their own newly-bought supplies. Severus hates his cauldron now, because it's old and ugly, but it's all he has. He can't afford anything new.

On his thirty-seventh birthday, the cauldron is one of the things he hesitates to bring back to Spinner's End. It will never be of use anymore. Perhaps, after this war _(when he's dead)_ , someone else will make good use of it. Perhaps someone will see its potential use. The cauldron's still ugly but the insides are beautiful, unmarred, and has seen innumerable potions made. It needn't be an heirloom, it can be a tool.

But he remembers his mother's fingernails brushing against his scalp, the way she gives it to him with her eyes filled with hope. He thinks, _It was important to someone once._

Now, Severus has lost hope of ever passing the heirloom to anyone. He might give it to a favourite student, but he has none, or no-one had come close to mastering the same skills in potion-making as his. And he's never going to give it to anyone. He's never going to have a daughter, or a son.

He brings it home with him, but refuses to think it is out of sentimentality. It is practical, he tells himself. When he's on the run, it will produce potions that will make him invaluable to Lord Voldemort. It will make potions that will help Dumbledore's cause.

The cauldron still has its use.

* * *

Many years later, his son will look at him doubtfully when Seveus gives him the cauldron. "It looks awfully old," he complains.

"Now, look," Remus tells him sternly, "you said you wanted to learn how to make potions, so you'll be doing it on this cauldron."

"But it's _old,"_ Theodore says. He looks at Severus hopefully. "Won't you buy me something new?"

Severus would like to think that, after ten years of being Theodore's father, he would be the one handling discipline while Remus fumbles by being an utter sap. It turns out Severus is quite pants at this whole father-thing. He's about to acquiesce, but Remus gives him a stern glance. "Severus," he warns.

Severus shrugs and turns to their son. "This cauldron was important to someone once," he tells Teddy gruffly. Then he raises an eyebrow. "If you'd rather not learn how to make potions before the new school year comes..."

Theodore sighs. He’s already used to the strict look. "Okay. But it's a big cauldron and...well. I'll need a new stool to stand on?" He looks at them hopefully and Remus sighs, giving a nod.

Later, when Theodore has polished off his birthday cake and has been taken to bed despite numerous sugar intakes, Severus' stands before the cauldron again. Remus sneaks up behind Severus' form, snaking his arms around his waist. They don't say anything for a long time.

Then, Severus finally says, "It was my mother's cauldron. A family heirloom...of sorts."

"I could tell," Remus says quietly, his lips pressed on Severus' shoulder. "It looks well-cared for, and I can feel how old it is." He sighs. "Teddy should learn how to say 'thank you' properly, especially since it's his gift."

Severus traces the cauldron's worn lip, remembers a long time ago, when he first perfected the Wolfsbane potion using this cauldron. He remembers brewing the most vile potion for Voldemort, and later for himself to ingest during the times he wished to _simply stop existing._ He remembers tipping this cauldron over, half-finished Veritaserum pooling on the floor, when Remus Lupin first kissed him in the basement of Grimmauld Place, with Black traipsing through cobwebs and dust upstairs. He remembers brewing potions that will cure coughs when three-year-old Teddy caught a vicious flu.

And Severus remembers a boy's long-ago secret birthday party, wishing for toys and getting this cauldron. Sitting in the attic room with his mother's fingers threading fondly through his hair, her eyes proud and young. And he remembers years of finally realising that _someone_ might actually learn to appreciate it, and not only for its use.

Perhaps Theodore will also give it to his son’s birthday one day, and will remember how he had first refused his father’s gift.

"Theodore needn't be an adult now," Severus decides. He realises he is thinking about futures, and he smiles. "In time, he'll find this is one of the most important things I can ever give him."

**Author's Note:**

> After re-reading this, I realize that I AM TEH SCHMOOP. I never thought I'd write Teddy Lupin again, and now he's here. _What is he doing here?_ He makes me into schmoopy goo (and seekritly, also Snape).


End file.
